Don't Lose Yer Head
by rubberevolveroad64
Summary: The story of how the Fab Four get stuck in sixteen year old Kassy Peterson's head... literally! How will The Beatles get out, and back to their own time? Will they even want to leave, after befriending the girl in question? A collaboration with the awesome HappyPlatypus!
1. Chapter 1

**Monday September 25, 2012**

**10:15 A:M**

It was an average day at school, same classes, same idiots to talk to, and third period seemed to drag on to the point where you could feel each minute pass by. Each of the fifty-five minutes of my life wasted I wasted in that class. Like I said before, it was a normal day.

I finished my work, and now was reading the John Lennon biography I'd been dying to get my hands on all day, when a high pitched voice shattered my tranquility.

" Who's John Lennon?" Cyndi, god I hate her. At every school you could find a girl like her. The one with the big group of "friends" that follow her around like lost puppies, trying to be exactly like her, a pretty face, with no sense of individuality, or intelligence whatsoever. I sighed, and looked up from my book, "You know who The Beatles are right?"

"Yeah, aren't they that band from the 50s?" She let out a snobby laugh. It was all I could do to not go apeshit, on her. "Yeah_,_" I gritted my teeth, "60s actually, John Lennon started it, he's the rhythm guitarist." I stated, returning back to my book. "Why do you listen to them? they're so _old_!" She exclaimed loudly.

My head snapped up from my reading, and met her overly eyelinerd gaze.

"Excuse me?" I snapped. "They only have like two good songs, and they're so ugly too!" Now I was pissed. "Of course, why would a girl listen to anything different then you do?" I fumed, "And let me guess who like, One Direction right?" "Yeah! They're so sexy, and they have great voices too!" Cyndi giggled stupidly.

"Well, last time I checked it doesn't take five guys to sing one song, and yeah they're a master of auto-tune, and inserting in instruments, instead of playing their own, they will be a memorable five minute fad" I finished bitterly. She opened her mouth to say something, but it just hung in defeat. "Careful now, don't want to catch flies." I gave her a smug smile. "_Stupid bitch_." I mumbled, looking back down at my book. "Kassandra Peterson, what did you just say?!" Mrs. Swanson yelled.

* * *

**Monday September 25, 1963**

**9:20 A.M**

**Paul's POV**

Life was getting back to normal, now that our tour was over. America was fun, but it felt nice to be getting back to the day to day life. John on the other hand was dreading it. He loves Cynthia and Julian and all, but domestic life is just hard to adjust to, after being with a different bird every night. He's been coming over to the Asher's a lot since we've been home, saying we've got to work on the new album, but we never end up working on our songs, mostly just watching the telly, and eating crisps.

Last night John spent the night here, after he and I got piss drunk, on what we could find in the liquor cabinet. My head was throbbing, and my stomach burned. Hangovers are just lovely. I scratched my head, what was I going to do today? Jane was working in Yorkshire all this week, so I was most likely going to spend the day with John, while he procrastinated on going home.

I got off the couch, and stumbled past the kitchen, to the lou. I reached for the doorknob, but stopped dead in my tracks. The normally chestnut brown door, was now painted lilac. When the hell did that happen? I could've sworn just last night it was brown. I looked around for Mr. and Mrs. Asher, but found they left a note saying they wouldn't be back until tonight.

I walked back into the living room, where John still slept on the bright red loveseat. "John wakeup." I shook his shoulder. "Fuck off McCartney." He muttered. "No get up, I've got something really strange to show you." I said. " I've seen your face plenty of times already Paul." He chided. "John I'm serious, it's the bathroom door." Wow that sounded better in my head. "Why the hell would I want to see a bathroom door?" John stated. "I don't know, It's purple though, kind of pretty." "Well then, by all means, show it to me Mr. McCartney." John bantered in his perfected posh accent. We trudged our way to the bathroom, and stopped in front of the door.

"I guess you weren't kidding then. When the fuck did this happen?" He wondered out loud. " Well if I knew I wouldn't be asking you would I? Are you going to open it?" I asked. "What exactly are you expecting to find?" John smiled. "Maybe they redecorated it." I reasoned. "When? I'm sure The Ashers secretly late night decorate." John joked "Let's just open it." John looked to me for approval. I shrugged, and turned the knob in one quick motion.

It was pitch black, almost like a dark hole. "The fuck?" John mumbled. I stepped in the bathroom. "Can you see me?" I called. "No, where the fuck are you? Can you feel anything in there?" John yelled. I moved around a bit. "I can't feel anything." I said reaching around. "Alright, comeback out then." He said. I started walking forward, for a couple minutes, but I couldn't find the exit. "John?" I shouted. "Yeah?" He replied. "I think I'm lost." "Lost? How the hell could you be lost, you're in a bathroom!" John taunted. " I don't know, but I can't find my way out."I said, trying not to let my panic show. "Alright, hold on for a few minutes."

**John's P.O.V**

"Hello?"

"Hi George, it's me."

" Oh hi John, what's going on?"

" Well, can you pick up Ringo and come over to Paul's? The bathroom is acting really odd."

" Oh ok, see you in ten."

"Bye."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hi! I meant to say this last chapter, but I accidently forgot. Anyway, now that I've got Dear Mr. Lennon (*cough read it cough*) up and running, I wanted to post this story that I've had in my head for a while now. Please R&R! **

Don't Lose Yer Head:

Chapter 2

**Ringo's POV**

I was always the last one. It had become some sort of ritual, like the screaming girls. John, Paul, George, and Ringo. The funny one, the cute one, the quiet one, the drummer. Most times I tried to pretend I didn't notice it. Though recently, when John started to make jokes about it, I'd act like I was okay with it. I guess it's not a big deal. There's still the occasional "Be mine Ringo's," in between the " I'll give you all my loving Paul's," or the " Love me do Lennon's."

I was brought out of my thoughts by a loud series of thuds on my front door. I checked the clock. Who would be knocking at my door at 9:35? Had the fans found out where I lived?! I crept over to the door, and hesitantly looked through the peep hole. Relief flushed over me, it was George.

I opened the door. " What're you doing here this early Harrison?" I asked in a teasing manner. " I just couldn't wait to see your pretty face Rings." He batted his eyelashes, and stepped inside. I chuckled. "Cheeky sod," I playfully punched him in the arm, "What're you really doing here?" " I got a call from John a few minutes ago, said something about Paul being lost in the lou." George said, with a completely straight face I should add.

" What?!" I asked a bit louder then I meant too. " Yeah, said we should come over, for god knows what reason." I shrugged, "He didn't ring me." "Are you sure?" He asked, somehow surprised at how nobody told me again. I nodded. "Oh," George scratched his neck, looking down. " I guess he thought it would be faster if I told you." He reasoned. " It would've only taken him a minute to call." I muttered under my breath. George pretended to not hear my last statement. After about thirty seconds he said, " Well we better find out what all this bathroom nonsense is about then."

**Third Person POV- Paul's house**

John sat down outside the bathroom after calling George. "Are you alright Paul?" John yelled slightly. "Yeah." Paul voice came as an echo outside the bathroom. "I just called George he's going to pick up Ringo, so hopefully they'll be here soon!" John shouted. In truth he didn't know what bringing in the other two Beatles was going to do to help, but they all usually worked on problems together, so it just didn't seem right to leave them out of it.

"Did you call Ringo?" Paul asked as loud as he could. "Shit I forgot!" John cursed. "John you know it bothers him when he gets left out!" Paul scolded, "And your jokes about him not being important haven't helped his confidence either!" "Well sorry mum, I forgot," John joked, "Plus those are jokes, he knows I'm just teasing."

**George's POV**

The short ride to Paul's was silent, which was very rare with Ringo. I hoped John's laziness hadn't hurt his feelings too much. When we arrived, I knocked at the door. John quickly opened the door. "So what's all this malarkey about the bathroom?" I asked stepping inside. John lead us to the lou, while telling us how Paul found the door had changed color over night, and when they looked inside it was pitch black. I wasn't buying it until I saw the door.

"Gear color." I smiled. "Yeah well, it was brown last night." John defended. "And what did you guys say you were doing last night again?" Ringo asked. "…we were drinking." Was that just me, or was John blushing? "There you go." Ringo said, looking like he was about to turn around. John calmly opened the door, and I felt my jaw drop. There was absolutely no light whatsoever, not even from the room we were standing in. "Well what're we waiting for fellas? Let's go in!" John said anxiously.

**Paul's POV**

I sat down on the dark ground, and looked at my shoes- wait a minute- I could see my feet! I could see the bottom of my shirt, my pants, and my hands. It made no sense at all! (Not that it made that much sense before.) I hoped I could get out of here soon. I sat there for a few minutes in silence. All of a sudden, I heard something far off in the distance. It sounded like voices. Three very familiar voices. "Lads is that you?" I called out. "Yeah Paulie, we're going to come in there, and find you!" John said. "Alright. Just don't get lost in here too." I said uneasily.

**Third Person POV**

John, followed by, Ringo and George, all hesitantly stepped through the doorway. Upon stepping in the bathroom, it seemed as though the doorway disappeared. "Holy shit! I can still see you guys! How the fuck is that possible?" John asked in surprise. George and Ringo shrugged. "What the fuck is this place?" George said quietly to himself. Each one studied the black scenery for a few seconds. "So what do we do now?" Ringo asked. "PAUL!" John screamed. "Yeah!" Paul shouted back. "It's really dark in here." George said. "Yes thank you for that insight Georgie Porgie." John said sarcastically. "Paul keep talking!" Ringo said. "Shouldn't be to hard for you Paulie." John bantered.

Paul kept talking to each other, as George, Ringo, and John walked in the direction they heard his voice. After about five minutes of walking they found Paul. "Jesus Christ McCartney, why'd you walk this far?" John asked smiling. "Shut yer gob Lennon," Paul smiled, got up, and clapped John on the shoulder. "How the fuck do we get out of here?" George asked. The four of them looked around for a moment. "I guess the same way we got in here." Paul said.

The fabs didn't have to walk long to find a bright purple door. "Finally!" John breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, never ending darkness was starting to get kind of depressing." Ringo chimed in. They each laughed. "Well let's get out of here already!" George impatiently said. Paul opened the door, but in the place of Mrs. Ashers brown corridor, was a hot purple room.

**AN: Oh no double author note! I'm not quite sure what I want to do with this story yet so if you have any ideas for the story, I'd love to hear those too! **


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: There are no excuses for how long I have not uploaded, but I can tell you that it will not be happening again, because I have huge news! This fanfiction has just become a collaboration! Yes that's right, my new friend HappyPlatypus will be helping me write this story every-other week! She has a fanfiction called With the Beatles, that is absolutely amazing, so go check it out! I also owe her credit for revising this chapter, so thank you again Happy Platypus. Again I'm so sorry for the long wait, and hopefully this chapter's worth it!  
**_

* * *

**Monday September 25, Year: ?**

**10:00 A.M**

**Third Person POV:**

"Well lads, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," John said. The other three ignored him, taking in this obscure room. The bright purple walls were almost completely covered in Beatles posters, specifically in the mop top era. A large zebra-printed sofa sat in front of two very large flat screen televisions, which were completely foreign to The Fabs. They stared at the TVs in awe. "Holy shit," George said under his breath. "More like The Holy Grail." Ringo noted adoringly.

John ran up to the sofa. "Isn't this just gear," he motioned around, "it's like we have a private cinema!" Paul shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure about this," he said, gingerly stepping towards the door. "Don't be a silly sausage." John smiled good-naturedly. Paul shook his head, "John, I'm serious. This is just too bizarre." John sighed, "Oh, all right, Macca, we'll only stay for a bit. I just want to see what these almighty teles will do." "Whatever, just be quick." Paul reminded, and then went to stand next to the door.

"Ok, so how do we turn them on?" Ringo asked no one in particular. "Simple, Rings, just blow in their ear," John chided, earning a laugh from Ringo and George. Paul just rolled his eyes, "Will you guys hurry up?" he asked impatiently. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Paulie; we're going as fast as we can," John replied.

For the next ten minutes, John, George, and Ringo tried everything they could think of to turn the TVs on: they touched the screen, waved their hands, and even said some magic words. "Well, it looks like they're just for show," Ringo sighed, flopping on the couch, triggering a loud beep from the televisions. "Ringo, you're a genius!" John exclaimed. "I never would have thought of that!" "Yeah, good thinking, Rings," George chimed in. Ringo straightened up and smiled, feeling a bit more appreciated.

The TV to the right flickered on to a shot of a pretty redheaded girl, about 15 or 16. This sparked Paul's interest, so he joined the other three Beatles on the couch. She sat at what they inferred to be a school desk, and she was totally enthralled in a book. "Oh my god, look at the picture on this, and in color too!" Paul gasped. "Yeah, sure, that's what you're looking at. We all know what you do with those redheads you steal from the cradle," John teased. George and Ringo laughed, causing Paul's cheeks to turn red, which only made them laugh harder.

When they all calmed down, they refocused on the TVs again. "Wait a minute, isn't that you, John?" George asked, pointing to the front of her book. John squinted, due to leaving his glasses at home. "Holy shit! It is! How in the hell could she have a book about me? I mean I guess we're pretty famous, but not famous enough to have biographies written or anything." The other three could only shrug; there was no logic that could sort out all the shit that happened today.

_"Who's John Lennon?"_ Someone finally spoke; it turned out to be a blonde bird, who sat across from the girl reading the John Lennon book. She wore too much eyeliner, but had a big pair of boobs. The redhead let out a puff of breath, and replied, _"You know who The Beatles are right?"_ The blonde girl nodded stupidly. _"Yeah, aren't they that band from the 50s?"_ She let out a snobby laugh.

This puzzled the four deeply. The girls sounded American. Didn't The Beatles just finish a huge tour there? Weren't they interviewed dozens of times? Hadn't they attended the press conferences that Brian had to drag them to? And not to mention performing on Ed Sullivan. Why would this girl think they were a 50s band? It's 1964. Unless…

"You don't think we could have possibly traveled to the future, right?" Ringo asked what was on each of their minds. They looked around at some of the teenagers. The girls wore decorated t-shirts, and tight trousers. (Not that they were complaining.) And the boys weren't dressed much different.

_"Yeah."_ The redhead was starting to look pissed. _"60s, actually. John Lennon started it; he's the rhythm guitarist,"_ she corrected, returning to her book_. "Why do you listen to them? They're so old!"_ The blonde broad laughed at her own rude comment. "Oh, hell no!" Paul gasped, touching his smooth, unwrinkled face.

And if the redhead looked pissed before, now she was furious.

_"Excuse me?"_ she snapped. _"They only have like two good songs, and they're so ugly too!"_ The blonde said, making a face. "What a bitch!" George exclaimed. _"Of course, why would a girl listen to anything different then you do?"_ The redhead looked like she was about to explode. _"And let me guess who, like, One Direction right?"_ the redhead asked. _"Yeah! They're so sexy, and they have great voices too!"_ Blondie giggled stupidly. _"Well, last time I checked it doesn't take five guys to sing one song, and yeah they're a master of auto-tune, and inserting in instruments, instead of playing their own, they will be a memorable five minute fad!"_ the redhead finished bitterly.

The blonde whore opened her mouth to say something, but it just hung in defeat. _"Careful now, don't want to catch flies."_ The redhead smirked. "Yeah! You go, mystery bird!" John called out, while the other three clapped. _"Stupid bitch."_ the girl mumbled, looking back down at her book. "Kassandra Peterson, what did you just say?!" an older woman, most likely the teacher, yelled.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hi, everyone! I'm HappyPlatypus, and I'm going to be writing every other chapter of this story. Thanks to rubberevolveroad64 for letting me collaborate on this story with her, and thanks to all of the readers! Please read and review!**

* * *

Luckily, I got nothing but a warning from Mrs. Swanson. I'd have to be more careful about what I said around teachers, or I'd probably get a week of detention. I hate detention. It just forces me to wait even longer before going home.

As I packed my books into my bag after the last bell, I started wondering what was going on in my head. Ever since talking to that awful Cyndi, I had been hearing voices. Male, Liverpudlian voices. Was it possible to listen to the Beatles too much?

The voices quieted down on the way home, but the moment I opened the front door of my house, they started again.

_"D'ya think this is her house?"_

_"Why else would she be here?"_

_"What if it's her friend's house? Or maybe she lives with another relative, like you and Mimi."_

_"But then it would still be her house, 'cause she'd live there."_

_"No, it would be her relative's house!"_

_"Rings, using that logic, her house would be her parents' house."_

_"Whatever."_

It sounded exactly like Ringo Starr and John Lennon!

I had to tell someone about this. But who? My mom, who would call every doctor on the planet before I was even finished talking? My dad, who wouldn't be home till five, and would probably be too busy to pay attention to me? My best friend Lilah, who, with her too-logical mind, would dismiss it as stress and exhaustion? I was sure it was more than that.

That left my 11-year-old, video-game-obsessed brother. As annoying as he could be, he might actually listen to me. And he happened to be home because his elementary school had let out early for teacher in-service.

I walked to his room and knocked on the door. "Leo!"

"What?"

I opened the door and went into his room. Leo was sitting on his bed, his eyes glued to the screen of his Nintendo DS.

"Leo," I repeated.

"Mm," he mumbled.

"Gimme that." I took the DS out of his hands and held it up so he couldn't reach it.

"Hey!" he protested, grabbing at my arms.

"Listen to me for a second," I insisted.

He sighed, sat back, and folded his arms across his chest. "What?" He paused and tilted his head. "Y'know, in that light, you look like your head's on fire."

I rolled my eyes. People were always making jokes about my red hair, and my brother was no exception. My parents and Leo all had dark brown hair that was almost black, and it really annoyed me when people told me I didn't resemble my parents at all. And I absolutely hated all the family photos, where I looked like the only damn coal that had sparked to life in a fiery blaze that somehow avoided everyone else.

"Ugh, Leo, just shut up, please," I groaned.

_"Betcha anything he's her brother," _came a voice that sounded strangely similar to George Harrison's.

_"Gee, how'd ya figure that one out?"_ said Paul McCartney's voice.

_"Ah, shut it, Paulie,"_ replied George.

"All right, I shut up like you told me to. Why're you just standing there with a weird expression on your face?" Leo complained.

"I hear voices in my head," I told him. "The Beatles' voices."

Leo burst out laughing. "Oh, really? Do they sing to you? 'Hey, Kass, don't make it bad, take a sad song, and knit a sweater…'"

"It's 'make it better,' not 'knit a sweater,'" I said through gritted teeth.

"But my version's funnier."

"It's not supposed to be funny!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"But seriously, Kassy, you need to get a grip," Leo told me. "You should stop listening to the Beatles for a week. Or a year. Or the rest of your life."

Leo hates the Beatles, and he'd do anything to get me to stop listening to them. Unfortunately for him, that's never gonna happen.

"You're no help." I tossed the DS back to him and went into my room.

I sat on my bed and looked up at one of my many Beatles posters. "Why are you in my head?"

_"So you really can hear us,"_ said a voice that sounded like John Lennon.

My eyes widened. I was talking to the Beatles! Unless it was all in my imagination. But how could I figure out whether it was real or not? Simple. If they could answer something that I didn't know, it was real. "Ringo, what are your parents' names?"

_"Richard and Elsie," _he replied.

I looked it up on the Internet. Those were their names.

So, unless I had guessed really well, it was official. The Beatles were in my head.


	5. Chapter 5

After "talking" with Ringo, I tried to communicate with "The Beatles" more. But after a couple hours of getting no results, I realized just how silly I was being. People don't zap into your head, especially not a world famous band, like The Beatles.

So I did my best to forget about it, and continue with the rest of my day. I did my homework;_ I wonder what Paul would think about this math problem._ I ate dinner;_ I bet George would like my mom's pasta._ I talked to Leo, or more like talked at him while he played with his DS; _how would The Beatles react to modern technology?_

Thoughts of that nature broke through my everyday activities, trying to temp the four into responding._ "Well Mystery Bird, the teles were a bit of a shock, but they're really gear!"_ 'John' exclaimed excitedly. They're back! _"We've been here the whole time; I think we're trapped in your noggin love."_ 'Paul' explained.

Wait a minute, can they hear my thoughts?_ "Yep, so you might want to stop thinking about how cute John is. Oh and by the way, your mum's pasta did look pretty good. Speaking of which, I'm getting a bit famished."_ 'George' said. I blushed a deep shade of crimson.

_"Also just to clear something up, this is your house right?"_ 'Ringo' asked. I laughed, remembering his and John's little debate earlier. "Yes!" Oh God I said that out loud! Suddenly reality hit me, and I remembered I was at my kitchen table.

"Kassy, what's wrong dear?" My mother asked, putting the last of the dishes in the cupboard. I chuckled nervously, "Nothing, why do you ask?" "It's just that you seem a little… off." I noticed she had a disturbed look on her face. I managed a smile and replied, "No really mom I'm fine, school's got me a bit drained though." Reluctantly, she nodded her head, "Alright then, maybe you might want to go to bed early tonight?"

I nodded, and went to my bedroom. "Jeez, you guys are going to get me in trouble." I said quietly. I could hear them all laugh._ "Hey mystery bird, it's not like we burst out laughing, and yelled when it seemed no one said anything."_ John teased. He had a point though; I've got to get a hold of the whole 'say it in my mind' thing.

_"Hey love, I don't mean for this to offend you, but where's your dad?"_ Paul asked. I could hear someone take a sharp intake of breath. I almost opened my mouth to say something, but then remembered to think it. _No it's ok, he's probably just working late tonight._ I checked my watch. 9 o' clock._ Hmm that's weird; he was supposed to be home at five. Oh well, I guess I'll just see him tomorrow then. "Ok, because I saw some family photos around, and was wondering where you get your red hair from."_ Paul explained.

Jeez, even Paul McCartney is going to poke fun at my hair!_ "No, no! It's just that you don't really look like your parents, that's all."_ Paul said. Damn it! I need to stop thinking._ My mom says that I get it from my great aunt Gladys, but I'll gladly give it back to her._

_"Oh come on, it's unique!"_ Paul said. _"Yeah, screw all those people who make fun of you!"_ George exclaimed. _"Especially that blonde bitch!"_ John added. They saw that argument with Cyndi!_ "Yeah, you did the right thing! She obviously needed to be put in her place."_ Ringo agreed. I let out a humorless laugh.

_Mrs. Swanson didn't think so. The teachers all love the popular people like her, while the rest of us are like second class citizens. She told me, "You shouldn't call such a lovely girl that foul name!" Yeah, lovely my ass. Now she's probably going to make my life a living hell at school._

_"That's wrong! Teachers need to treat all their students equal!" Paul agreed. Oh well though, I only have a couple more years in that shit hole anyway. So tell me, how did you guys end up here?_

So for the next hour John Paul George, and Ringo told me about Mrs. Asher's bathroom, the mysterious dark hole, and finally the ludicrous room in which they were in now, until John said,_ "I'm starving! How the hell are we supposed to eat inside mystery bird's head?" _I let out a huff._ Would you quit calling me mystery bird? My name's Kassandra, but since that sounds horrible everyone calls me Kassy. Also, have you looked around for a kitchen or something?_ Surely my head would have some form of nourishment, like a chic modern kitchen!

_"Holy shit! Did you see that?"_ George shouted in surprise._ "Where did that door come from?"_ John asked. _"It appeared out of thin air!"_ Paul whispered in disbelief. _"Kassy did you just make that appear?"_ Ringo asked in astonishment._ "Oh, oh, make something else appear!"_ John pleaded in delight. _No way! There is no way I could've done that, it was probably there and you didn't notice it. "No I saw it! It just suddenly popped itself onto the wall!"_ George argued. _"There's only one way to find out,"_ John started, _"Paulie, why don't you go see what's behind that door?"_ Paul let out a small laugh, _"Not this time Lennon! You go in!" "Alright, I will…"_

Suddenly a sharp pain surged in my head. "AHH!" I screamed out in pain. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. _"What's wrong?!"_ Paul asked urgently. I clutched my head with both hands. "Kass are you alright?!" Leo yelled from his room across the hall. I couldn't find the words to answer him. I slipped onto the floor, moaning in misery. Another shot of pain racked my brain, and slowly my room faded into black.

* * *

I awoke to familiar voices, very familiar voices.

_"Do you think she's alright?"_

_"Yeah she's just sleeping."_

_"No kidding Paul."_

I should probably let whoever these people are know I'm not dead. I slowly opened my eyes only to find John Lennon, looking like he could have come straight out of "A Hard Day's Night," hovering right above my face. "Well hello there Mystery Bird!" He smiled. "It's Kassy." I stammered shakily before passing out again.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hi, everyone! HappyPlatypus here! Here's the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait. It won't happen again. Please read and review!**

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When I came to, I stood up shakily, taking in the scene around me. John Lennon was staring at me, a mostly amused, somewhat worried look on his face; Paul McCartney was pacing back and forth; George Harrison was rummaging around my room, probably looking for food; and Ringo Starr was saying, "Shouldn't we splash water on her or- Oh, 'ello, Kassy!"

John grinned. "Told ya we didn't have to wake her."

I looked at them. "Okay, you're here... Now what?" I asked, not sure what to do with them. I rubbed my head, the headache still lingering.

Paul stopped pacing and turned to me. "How about a tour? We don't exactly know where we are, so..."

"But you can't," I said.

"Why not?" asked John. "We need to be able to get around, don't we?"

I shook my head, which only caused more pain. "No, you don't need to."

"What? Why?"

"Um, well... people will recognize you, for one thing."

"We know that, Mystery Bird," John replied.

I rolled my eyes at "Mystery Bird." "But, um... they'll get freaked out, 'cause it's your younger selves, and-" I stopped myself before I revealed that John and George weren't alive anymore.

George peeked out from under the bed. "Don't you have any food in here?"

I grinned at his desperation for something to eat. "Yeah, I'll go get some. Don't, um, knock anything over or damage anything."

I came back with some chips.

"Ooh, crisps!" John exclaimed, walking over to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "No, these are chips."

Ringo laughed. "No, chips are what you eat with fish!"

This confused me even more. "I don't even like fish."

"You don't like fish?" George asked incredulously. "I didn't know such a thing was possible!" He came over to me and took some chips from the bag.

Meanwhile, Paul was looking at the calendar on my wall. "Why is there a heart and the name "George" on 29 November?" he asked.

Uh-oh. "Uh, that's just my cousin's birthday," I replied.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Kassy?" came my mom's voice.

I panicked. One of them could fit in the closet, and George, as he had already proven, could fit under the bed, but there was nowhere for the other two to hide!

Then, some weird instinct kicked in. I imagined my mind-door opening, and I imagined The Beatles going into it. Just as my mom opened the door, The Beatles were whisked into my head. I stared at my mother with wide, frightened eyes, not sure if she had seen them.

My mother frowned. "Kassy, are you okay?"

I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. Lilah's here."

_Oh, right!_ I thought. I had forgotten that I had invited Lilah over. I decided to tell her about The Beatles, and maybe even prove it to her. Not everything had to be logical like she thought.

"Hey, Lilah!" I said, hurrying downstairs. "I've got something really exciting to show you!"

"Cool! What is it?" she asked me.

I looked around to mae sure Mom had left the room. "You have to keep it a secret," I whispered. "Promise?"

Lilah looked at me suspiciously, but she nodded. "Okay, I promise."

I smiled. "Good. C'mon."

We went upstairs to my room. "Now, don't be scared if I pass out."

Lilah's eyebrows shot up. "What?!"

"Okay, somebody open the door!" I exclaimed.

Lilah gave me a strange look and turned the knob on my bedroom door.

"No, not you!" I told her. I pointed to my head. "Them!"

Lilah's eyes widened. "Um... them? There are people in your head?"

I laughed. This would certainly confuse her. "Yep, there sure are!"

"Oh my God, do you need to go to a mental hospital?" Lilah started pacing frantically. "Kassy? What are you doing?"

I actually wasn't doing anything. I was just standing there, waiting for a Beatle to cause horrible pain in my head. "C'mon, guys! I trust Lilah! It's okay!"

"_Are you sure?_" John asked.

I nodded. "I'm sure."

"Oh my God, now she's having a conversation with the people in her head!" Lilah exclaimed. "Mrs. Peterson!" Lilah yelled, opening the door.

"No!" I shouted. "You promised to keep it a secret!"

Lilah paused. After a long moment, she sighed and closed the door. "Fine. But if anything bad happens, it is NOT my fault."

"Just don't freak out when I faint," I reminded her. "Okay, guys. You can come out now."

Suddenly, the horrible pain of the mind-door opening shot through my head. I fell to my knees, and then everything went black.

* * *

When I came to (again), The Beatles were standing in front of a very scared-looking Lilah. She turned to me. Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, until she finally said, "Kass- are you okay?"

I took a deep breath and stood up, a somewhat pained smile on my face. I rubbed my head. "Sorta, yeah."

Lilah looked at The Beatles again. They were just standing there, trying not to laugh at Lilah's expression.

"So, how are ya, love?" Paul asked me.

"Yeah, does it still hurt?" George asked.

"A little," I replied. "But it should be fine."

The Beatles and I spent the next few minutes trying to convince Lilah that she wasn't hallucinating. When she finally believed us, she furrowed her brow. "But how did it happen?"

So we told her everything we knew, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Miss Logical. "How did they get from a bathroom in the 60s to your head in the present?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Well, I'm going to figure this out," Lilah said.

"Just as long as you keep it a secret," Ringo said. "We don't want anything bad to happen."

I nodded, causing the lingering headache to worsen. "Ouch."

John looked at me. "Why don't ya lay down for a while, love? That oughta do ya some good."

"Okay, but don't do anything crazy," I said, climbing into bed. "Wake me up if anything bad happens."

I felt bad about leaving them without anyone to help them except Lilah, who still wasn't entirely sure they were real, but I didn't dwell on it for very long, because I was soon fast asleep.


End file.
